A Title Worthy of Praise
by Melundomeiel
Summary: Hobos, plot holes, singing, irrelevant references to movies and books...all things that have been forced upon the characters of the Phantom world. All thanks to an author who doesn't seem to care much about consistency or sensible progression of plot.Fun.
1. A Title Worthy of Praise

A Title Worthy of Praise

So I must admit, I was sitting in front of my computer, staring at the text document I had opened up, and I soon felt compelled to write a fanfic. But for _what_? I wrote to myself in question. And of course it dawned on me,_ Phantom of the Opera_. Deep in my heart something died, it kind of sounded like a wailing cow eating a cat. I knew something ominous was forthcoming, but I wouldn't stop typing. I knew that bashing of any and all characters was going to spew forth, whether I wished it to or not. I also knew, that the tense in which I was writing would begin to get even more muddled and just utterly confusing the more I put off said fanfic. And of course, there would most likely be an obscene amount of sarcasm, if my writer's voice had anything to say about it. I took a deep breath and moved on to the next paragraph.

So down, down...

Down.

Down down down.

Down and more down,

past the mines of Moria-

There stood a calm, and slightly eerie, lake. Or pond. It was rather hard to tell because it was terribly dark down there--as would (and should) be expected. Of course, it was clear there was a lake because some light was there to reveal it, not very good light--but it isn't the 21st century in this story. So, the light was coming from a large group of candles, which stood in the lair--_home_ I should probably say; of a... I guess you could say, _eccentric_ man. I'm sure you are entirely aware of whom I am referring to.

Anyway, this poor unsuspecting figure was pounding the crap out of his organ. Interpret that as you will--with a blind passion in which he was entirely lost. He was practically _drowning_ in it. In any case, I was referring to the sort of organ that produced music. Oh those notes echoed madly upon the stone walls of the cavern, home-ish, place in which he lived... And as the music reached its peak, there came a small wailing noise, and then some splashing--and then more wailing, mingled with coughing and splashing. Of course, the man didn't hear it over the ridiculous music he was making.This wailing coughing and so on was coming from the lake; which wasn't exactly the most unexpected thing in the world. In fact, this made perfect sense, because of the whole splashing thing. It continued on, for a few moments, and then the only thing that could be heard down there was the organ.

The eccentric man slowly came to a close in his music, and then he sat, looking drained and tired and whatnot. It was at this point, a mangy looking hobo made himself known.

"Hey!" he called out to the music man.

I was tired of referring to the phantom as some random guy at this point and decided to make things short by bringing his name into the story:

Erik whipped around quickly, shocked, and mildly disgusted, at the sight of a ragged looking hobo calling out to him. The hobo continued, having caught Erik's attention, "You wanna see a dead body?" he asked in his dirty old bum voice.

"what?" Erik countered, pretty much bewildered at this unlikely occurrence.

The hobo repeated himself, "_You wanna see a dead body_?"

"..." contemplated the phantom.

The hobo waited patiently.

"How..." Erik paused, "How did you get down here?"

The hobo didn't answer immediately, instead, he pointed at the convenient window I had created in one of the cavern walls. "Plot hole." the hobo said reasonably.

The phantom was thoroughly confused.

The hobo repeated his offer a final time, "You wanna see a dead body?"

Erik shrugged.

The hobo motioned for the phantom to follow him. So he did. At the edge of the lake the hobo pointed out the body lying face down in the water.

"_Christine!_" cried out the phantom.

The plot thickens... Ish.

* * *

Hey kids! This is my chance to goof off in writing, and so, it will be awful, I'm pretty sure. 

Input, commentary and good grammar are all welcome should you feel the urge to write a review.

More to come! (And soon I should think.)


	2. Things Start Making Less Sense

Things Start Making Less Sense

"_What?_" asked a soft, musical and womanly voice. It came from behind the hobo and Erik. The latter was smitten all over again at the sound of her voice. The former wandered off somewhere supremely uninterested.

Christine ran forward jumping into Erik's unready arms, she nearly sent both into the lake. The phantom began stumbling over incoherent words, completely unlike himself. Music so sweet it could cause diabetic shock began to play.

As if on cue, Raoul entered the scene.

"Christiiiiine!" he yelled out courageously, running through the shallow lake slowly. He soon tripped over the dead body. There was an air of deja vu about the scene. Raoul stood up shakily, fairly wet, with an expression on his face that could not be deciphered.

Erik blinked, and Christine continued smothering him in an unbreakable embrace. The dead body became less dead. The love triangle didn't notice however, and they soon broke out into talk-singing, in order to sort out who wanted whom, and so on.

"_Christine! I thought you looooved meeee!?"_ Raoul practically sobbed, breaking the hearts of the more weak-minded women in the audience.

Erik still hadn't gathered his wits; he stood there holding Christine absent-mindedly.

She sang back to Raoul, "I do! I do! But, I find my will refusiiing yoooouu, and favoring myyy angeeell of muuusiiic!" It was Raoul's turn to blink.

The now not-so-dead body was standing off to the side, fixing her hair, and wringing out her dress.

And then Erik sang out loudly, over the drivel that Raoul and Christine were making, "Whhat is the meeaaning of _this_ foolish processiooon?" Christine stepped away from Erik, and then looked over at the woman—who had supposedly been dead—who was now watching them. The woman waved.

"Who's_ she_!?" Christine looked to the phantom, pointing at the woman, pointedly. Erik shrugged. She then looked over to Raoul, who also shrugged.

The woman cleared her throat, and spoke up, "I think I can clear this up," she spoke with a voice so perfect, so _angelic_ it could induce anger within any experienced fan fiction or _phan_ fiction reader (it should work in either case). The woman continued gracefully and calmly, with more description being put into her character because apparently she was extremely important with her gorgeous blonde hair, and sparkling emerald eyes… In any case, she spoke: "My name is Marisu, I was lost in the cellars because I wandered off from a party and-"

The love triangle soon lost interest in her generic story that did not fall in line with any of the other happenings. Erik voiced his confusion quite clearly, "Shouldn't that woman be dead? She was not breathing for at least fifteen minutes!" Both Raoul and Christine nodded in agreement. "And what are you two doing here anyway?"

Christine began, "I felt the sudden urge to run back to you, in the middle of—"

"Our wedding!" boomed Raoul suddenly. He looked quite furious, all of a sudden.

"Oh," said the phantom, not really caring all that much, all of a sudden.

"But I don't understand why, it was like I couldn't control my own feet. They just carried me off…" trailed off the silly woman.

"I just don't understand how you could do that to me Christine!" Raoul started sobbing again.

Erik sighed in a tired manner. No composing today he supposed.

"Oh Raoul! I am so sorry!" Christine cried, running into her fiancé's arms. The two made a disgusting show of their love for one another, which soon turned into a full-blown make-out session. It was at this time Marisu advanced on a somewhat forlorn Erik.

"Oh you poor tortured soul!" she lamented, jumping him with a ridiculous, wet, and mostly unpleasant hug.

"Get off!" Erik rasped, pushing the strange woman away. It didn't work.

In the midst of this nonsense, M. Firmin Richard entered the lair, through an unexplained secret passageway. He looked about with a confused expression plastered on his face. He made his confusion verbal, "What the hell is going on!?" he cried out at everyone. They looked to him; Marisu began rambling on about something in an eloquent manner, whilst the rest of them just shrugged at Richard.

This didn't help at all.

* * *

Well, so goes my beautiful train wreck! 

Marisu? Boy, I am just ever so subtle...

More drivel to come!


	3. That Crazy Punjab Lasso!

That Crazy Punjab Lasso!

M. Richard decided to take a seat on the organ bench. Erik had managed to get Marisu off him, and he had but one question for M. Richard:

"How did you find my home?"

Firmin looked over at him, an apologetic expression in place, "I was trying to find the men's room," he admitted, throwing up his hands carelessly, "How I ended up here is beyond my comprehension!"

"Ah," said Erik knowingly.

M. Richard then asked, "By the way… Who are you?"

"Your opera ghost," replied Erik simply.

"Ah," said Firmin knowingly. It made sense he supposed.

An awkward silence fell over the room, and all of them just stood about, looking at one another. Then M. Richard asked, after shifting about uncomfortably for quite some time, "Have you a bathroom?"

Erik nodded, motioning for Firmin to follow as he led him to said bathroom. The other three stood within an awkward silence once more.

Marisu decided to start talking about her tragic past in the midst of silence, hoping to develop her character more, "Oh, and then, my father… He-he… He wouldn't let me go to the _ball_!" she started sobbing incoherently, falling gracefully to the floor. Raoul and Christine watched, unable to summon up the courage to comfort the woman. She was kind of a zombie, after all. (Refer to second chapter for clarification on this matter).

Erik soon returned to the room, a sinister smirk on his face. Christine noticed, even though it was hard to tell with the mask he was wearing. She cried out, because she enjoyed crying out, "Why are you smirking Erik?! Did you do something dastardly?"

They all frowned at the horrible dialogue that had just spewed from Christine's mouth.

"Words ending in 'ly' should not be placed at the end of a sentence," said Raoul suddenly. They all mulled over the subject for a time.

Christine cried out after finding a suitable sentence, "Did you do something to M. Richard?!"

"I showed him to the bathroom," said Erik, then he muttered quickly, "_and then I showed him my Punjab lasso_"

"What was that last part?" asked Raoul, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Marisu piped up, "He said: _and then I showed him my Punjab lasso_!" she managed to make this particular sentence echo in the underground cavern several times.

Everyone winced, most notably, our beloved phantom.

"How could you!?" Christine asked, her voice dripping with cliché.

"Well, the process is actually quite simple," began Erik calmly, "If I could have an assistant to help me demonstrate?" he eyed Raoul maliciously. Raoul shook his head, indicating an obstinate 'No'.

"I'll help!" yelled out Marisu stupidly, running up to Erik. He did not hesitate in wrapping the lasso about her neck, and failing miserably at choking her. He frowned, she should have been choking. Instead, she was rambling on with a stupid smile on her face.

"Oh and then that rose you gave me! It was just _so_ beautiful!" she gushed, eyes practically popping out of her head in excitement.

"What on earth are you talking about woman!?" the phantom yelled out irritably, still attempting to choke her, "I gave you no such thing! I have half a mind to. Give. You. Death!" At each word he gave a useless yank at the rope.

"Come now man! Kill that, that _thing_!" yelled Raoul.

Erik gave him a dirty look that indicated Raoul should shut up.

Christine looked torn between being upset, and being happy with Marisu being choked. It resulted in an unpleasant distortion of her face. Finally she decided on a compromise, "It's useless my angel! Stop!"

He stopped. (Cue the cracking of that whip!)

"I love you too Erik!" Marisu boomed abruptly, wrapping herself around the phantom.

He winced, "Get. _Off_. Me"

She didn't.

* * *

Ah, murder... I'm still debating over whether Marisu should actually get killed at some point. She has been vital in order to torture the phantom thus far... Neh, you can decide! (Review if you are interested in deciding her fate).

Anyway, thanks for reading ladies and gentlemen!


	4. More Confusion And Zombies!

More Confusion--And Zombies!

It was then that Meg Giry came wading through the lake in her ballet gear.

"There you are Christine!" she exclaimed, sounding rather relieved, "I was looking _everywhere_ for you!"

"Why?" asked Christine curiously.

"I was wondering if you wanted some of the apple pie I made?"

"Oh, no thank you dear."

"All right then. Say…" Meg looked around at what was going on. The woman smothering Erik, Raoul picking his nose, and Christine standing around with a drugged look on her face. "What's going on?"

"Oh, not too much," Christine began, "but we're not really entirely sure when it comes down to it anyway."

"Oh, all right then."

"Moses supposes his toeses are Roses, But Moses supposes Erroneously," Raoul started up out of the blue.

"But Moses he knowses his toeses aren't roses, As Moses supposes his toeses to be!" added Erik.

"Moses supposes his toeses are Roses, But Moses supposes Erroneously," they said in unison.

There was silence for a _very_ long time.

"What on earth was _that_?" Meg finally asked.

"I don't know," began Raoul, "but I didn't _like_ it."

"Nor I," added Erik contemptuously, as he planted his palm in Marisu's face. It was then that he managed to remove Marisu from himself. He sighed with obvious relief.

"Well, all strange singing in unison aside," began Christine for plot development, "what are we going to do about Mademoiselle Marisu?"

They all contemplated for a time.

"We know we can't kill her," started Raoul, "but perhaps we could trap her somewhere?"

Unsure looks were cast at Raoul.

There was more contemplating.

After what seemed a very long and unproductive ten minutes, the hobo returned from wherever he had been. He did a little jig and then pulled out a paper cup, he walked up to Erik.

"Spare some change?" he asked, holding the cup up in his face.

"Um," Erik responded. He looked through some pockets, producing nothing. "Sorry, I haven't any."

The hobo moved on, waving the cup around until Marisu threw some coins in. He bowed to her briefly and left through another plot-hole window.

"Well, that was unnecessary." Said Raoul bluntly.

"I agree," said Meg agreeably.

"Hello everyone!" blustered a man loudly from the lake. He waded slowly through the green water, wearing an entirely tattered suit. He looked like a zombie, and coincidentally, he _was_ a zombie.

"Philippe?!"

Raoul didn't move; a really stupid-looking expression of shock had possessed his face. Erik walked over to Raoul and gave him a shove towards zombie-Philippe. He enjoyed watching Raoul stumble around like a fool. When zombie-Philippe and Raoul met one another at the edge of the lake, there was an especially awkward greeting. Raoul had to refrain from killing and/or puking, due to Philippe's unpleasant smell and appearance.

In the midst of this, Erik decided he felt like kidnapping Christine again, and so, he did.

Meg had seen Erik do this, and she decided it would be best to inform Raoul, since Christine was his fiancée and all that:

"Raoul?" Meg began.

"Yes?" he inquired, as he was trying to distance himself from his rotting zombie brother.

"I do believe that M. Phantom has just kidnapped Christine again."

"Are you serious?" Raoul asked in a demanding tone, whilst looking around for the two.

"Yes," answered Meg.

"Oh god damn it all!" Raoul cried out. He then proceeded to run off in search of the two.

Meg and Philippe soon found themselves quite alone in the cavernous lair-type place. They stood for a while, looking at their feet as if expecting flowers to grow out of them. It was quite boring. Meg soon had a thought, and that thought turned into an idea; and it was a fine idea.

She asked this of Philippe: "Would you like to come and have some pie with me?"

"Certainly," Philippe answered politely.

They skipped off to go and eat some apple pie. They were quite sure it would be a jolly old time.

And it was.

* * *

Disclaimer: You should already know that Gaston Leroux's characters aren't mine... Also, all Singing in the Rain lyrics/script/whatever belongs to their respectful owners. And if there are any other references I have forgotten about--then I disclaim them as well, and all that jazz. Sweet. 

So there we are... Hopefully I can move away from the dialogue driven plot. If that doesn't happen... Whatever!

Reviews are welcomed with concrete awesome! Have a fine evening children!

And I will see you next time... In the Twilight Zone.

* * *


	5. “Erty23wertf!”

"Erty23wertf!"

Erik was carrying Christine off like a bag of potatoes to her old dressing room. She didn't seem to mind all that much. She nattered away in Erik's ear, talking about the new home she was to be living with Raoul in; she also talked about how pretty the wedding was, and how the reception would have been wonderful had she stayed long enough to even get married.

Erik just lugged her through the dark passages, offering a manly grunt here and there as a response. He wasn't paying a whole lot of attention to what she was saying, since it was terribly dull and slightly irritating for him.

"And that's the sort of flower arrangement I had wanted, but they had gone with another, although, I didn't really mind anyway…" rambled Christine in a bubbly manner.

"Ungh…" grunted Erik reasonably.

"I'm glad you think so!" and so she continued on.

Nearby, Marisu snuck along gracefully, wishing to win back her beloved phantom. She hadn't known him terribly long, but she couldn't help but think of the mysterious man. He kept so many secrets from her! She just couldn't understand why, in the whole hour or so she had known him, he wouldn't open up to her. Marisu would spring upon him soon enough, and free him from the clutches of Christine.

Somewhere, a considerable distance away, Raoul was prowling through the dark tunnels. Without a candle or lantern. He found many dead ends, puddles, and rats. He had also walked directly into a wall several times. He kept cursing and yelling, that is, of course, until he remembered the matches he was carrying in his pocket.

He pulled out the matches hastily, and found that they were soaked from when he had gone for a dip in the lake during chapter two. This made Raoul furious. He ran forward blindly in his frustration, finding a rather convenient plot hole window. He ran through it without even realizing, finding himself in box five, for whatever reason. Confused, he took a seat in one of the chairs.

Down on stage, Erik and Christine were idly standing in an uncertain daze.

"How did we get out here?" Christine asked Erik dreamily.

"I… I'm not sure." Erik contemplated this revelation.

"Oh Erik!" cried the voice of Marisu from stage left.

"Oh no…" muttered the phantom in exasperation.

And then as quick as a phan could say 'Punjab,' Marisu was out on stage, ready to jump Erik mercilessly. This time, Erik hid behind Christine. This made Christine feel especially important.

"Erty23wertf!" blurted Raoul from box five.

Everyone on stage looked up to Raoul.

"What the hell?" cried out the phantom loudly.

"I don't know!" replied Raoul, just as confused as the rest of them.

Little did they know, the author had allowed a girl she knew to type somethinghesucks ha ha qwack qwack ha ha. Like that, right there. Assface. The author was hoping that to be the last time the girl would add something, even if it was bizarre, and likely to get some entertaining reactions from readers. In any case, this occurance of inexplicable typing had interrupted the story, and it was high time things had gone back to the current situation of our beloved and/or hated Phantom of the Opera characters.

"I say we ignore it!" added Christine brightly.

"I can dig it," said Erik, in an act of ooc-ness.

"'Kay," agreed Raoul absently.

"You stole my Erik!" screamed Marisu unpleasantly, pulling out a rather grim looking knife from a hidden pocket in her dress. She glared at Christine, "You shall die!"

It was then that Marisu lunged at Christine with the ugly knife.

In the midst of all these happenings, Meg and Philippe had been enjoying some freshly baked apple pie and hot tea. They were sitting in a kitchen that was conveniently hidden within the opera house.

"So how's your tea?" Meg asked of zombie-Philippe.

"It is delightful." Responded zombie-Philippe politely.

"I am glad to hear that it is so."

"Indeed?"

"Indeed."

* * *

Damn... I want some apple pie. 

Okay! So I feel I should clarify some stuff in the story.

The actual version of PotO that I was going for: None in particular, mostly the Leroux and '04 movie have been incorporated thus far though.

And.. My friend really did start hitting random keys on my computer. I decided to mesh the stuff into this chapter. When she typed: 'hesucks ha ha' she was referring to Joseph Heller. Catch 22 is a bitch to read. And she has to read it. :) Heh.

Anyway, there will be more to come... Thanks for reading ladies and gents!

Tune in next time for the exciting continuation of the story! Will Christine get killed by Marisu? Will Meg and Philippe get stomach aches? And how exactly will Raoul get out of box five?

Yes, no, and he will use the stairs.

Adios!


	6. Magical!

Magical!

Well, it seems I had left the story with a rather ominous cliffhanger in the previous chapter. And I had lied excessively about the results of things. Now, back to the stage, where I had left Marisu, with a knife, and quite possibly, sick with rabies. As a matter of fact, Marisu is foaming at the mouth, midair, as she lunges at Christine. Let us continue without further delay of the scene:

Marisu was lunging at Christine with her sharp and shiny knife, however, before she could make contact with Christine, Erik stepped in. He head butted Marisu as she came forward with the knife. This action caused her to fall in a crumpled heap to the stage floor. It also gave Erik one hell of bump on his head; he rubbed it, mumbling some unpleasant things as he did so.

"Oh Erik!" Christine cried, as she normally did. She gave him a nice BIG hug.

Raoul gaped at the scene stupidly, much like he did when Erik practically molested Christine during Don Juan Triumphant. He was mildly upset with all the goings on. He finally decided to do something about it. He grabbed a rope that was hanging from the ceiling, quite conveniently. He used it to swing down to the stage dramatically.

He yelled, "I'M COMING MY SWEE—WATCH OUT!!!1!11" Raoul crashed onto the stage in a most ungraceful, and un-heroic fashion. Christine was visibly upset, and Erik was making vain attempts at hiding his pleasure in Raoul's misfortune.

Then there was an obligatory sex scene between Meg and zombie-Philippe.

Then, back at the stage, Christine was trying to comfort an unconscious Raoul. The phantom stood off to the side, rubbing the bump on his head and glaring jealously at the unconscious Raoul. He mumbled some unpleasant things, the word 'fop' coming up many, many times.

"Oh Raoul!" Christine lamented, as she stroked his head.

"Nyefum," said Raoul, only half conscious.

The love triangle heard a strange fizzing noise.

Raoul questioned, "Nyefum?"

"I don't know," replied Christine, "Where do you think the noise is coming from Erik?"

Erik was looking directly at the source of the noise, "It's Marisu…" he said, quirking an eyebrow at the manifestation of gross that lay upon the stage before him.

Christine propped up Raoul so they could get a better look. Raoul decided the scene to be entirely too gross for his tastes, and took to going entirely unconscious. Christine just looked disgusted.

Marisu happened to be melting on the stage, it was sticky looking, and there was a bit of steam, and bubbling. Erik decided to cover the original character with his cloak, so nobody had to look at whatever she was becoming, or not becoming.

Madame Giry decided to make an appearance in the story after that particular moment.

"What's going on?" she queried, looking as grim and stern as ever.

"We aren't entirely sure…" Christine said. Erik simply shrugged, enforcing this answer.

"Hm."

"Precisely."

"And what's under the cloak?" Giry asked, making a stiff gesture to the lump of cloth.

Erik made a dramatic show of lifting the cloak, with a swishing motion that could make magicians jealous. There was a white rabbit in Marisu's place. Christine's face lit up.

"Bunny!" she cried in delight, dropping Raoul as she clapped her hands together.

Raoul fell with a dull thud.

"Why?" questioned Giry, looking at Erik in confusion.

"I'm magical!" he declared.

"Indeed!" agreed Christine.

* * *

:DDD six chapters! 2 reviews! hahaha! I feel kinda like being REALLY weird. 

Anywho, sorry this is shorter than the usual chapter. I just felt like ending it there. And Erik is SO magical! And stuff. He's also musical! Magical and musical! Alliteration!

Hardcore.

Until next time yoo guys! Maybe I'll incorporate Erik riding a bicycle... And the Persian. Yeah, he'll be all: "Don't you be riding my bicycle Erik!"

And Erik will be all: "Psh! I don't care what you think! I want to bicycle! Bicycle!" And he'll start singing Queen. Oh yeah. That's what I'll do. And it will be awesome. And entertaining. And probably confusing. Hurrah!

That's all folks!

:DDD


	7. Obligatory Christmas Special!

Obligatory Christmas Special!

Or

The Worst Chapter Yet.

"So what now?" came a new voice, from back stage.

Everyone turned towards where they thought the voice had come from. Except Raoul. Who was, in fact, not conscious. Erik had been the only one to figure out where the voice was coming from; stage left. It was Andre.

"Well, do any of you want to actually answer me?" he demanded.

"Perhaps not." Said Giry icily.

Andre humphed. He pulled out a pistol and shot the white rabbit.

"Why did you do that?!" Christine cried out in dismay.

"Supper." Andre replied simply, as he picked up the bullet-ridden corpse.

"KILL HIM!" Christine screamed at Erik. Everyone was fairly shocked by this outburst. Except Raoul. Who was, in fact, not conscious.

Erik, loving Christine with all his heart, and all that, couldn't help but comply with this irrational request. He pulled out his handy dandy Punjab lasso. He brandished it, because that created quite the dramatic effect. Unfortunately, the author really likes the managers, and she couldn't bear to have Erik kill another one of them, despite how entertaining that might be for the readers. (Since death seems to qualify as worthy entertainment, and all that). The author found a worthy scapegoat, and as Erik wrapped the lasso about Andre's neck, Andre was replaced by a phangirl. She was strangled before she could even utter: "OMG Erikkk!!11:DD"

Christine was thoroughly confused, and disappointed, "Oh poo." She said.

Erik didn't understand what had just happened, so he went, "Okay…"

Madame Giry decided to change the subject, or to create one, whichever… In any case, she said, "Well, did you all hear about the next production?"

Erik came out of his confused reverie in all abruptness, "Oh yes, Faust? Is it not?"

"Yes, yes it is."

"Oh that sounds lovely," said Christine, having forgotten about the past few minutes of confusion.

"You should go for Marguerite," said Erik softly to Christine, a peculiar expression in place.

Christine frowned at him, "I remember what happened the last time I played in Faust Erik, and I am not eager to repeat it."

Erik proceeded to be sad.

"Nyefum…" mumbled Raoul, who was becoming conscious again. He rose slowly, without anyone noticing.

And then, since the author sort of promised, the Persian came on stage. Riding a ballin' bicycle. He came to a stop in the middle of the stage. Everyone stared. Even Raoul. Who was, in fact, conscious.

"What?" questioned the Persian.

"…" Erik seemed to want to say something, but he hesitated. "Can I…" he trailed off.

"What?"

"Can I try riding the bike?" the Phantom's eyes seemed to sparkle with childish hope.

"Certainly." He got off the bike and to let Erik try.

Erik was soon riding around the stage.

"This has to be the strangest thing to happen so far…" said Christine, watching the phantom ride about in bliss.

"I'd have to agree," said Raoul, who was regretting the whole waking up thing.

"Could things get any stranger?" Madame Giry questioned.

The Persian, Christine, and Raoul all looked at Giry blankly. Everyone knew the answer to that question, and the author knew what sort of cue that was.

"_Bicycle! Bicycle! Bicycle! I Want To Ride My… Bicycle! Bicycle! Bicycle! I Want To Ride My Bicycle, I Want To Ride My Bike, I Want To Ride My Bicycle, I Want To Ride It Where I Like_…" Erik had begun singing Queen, and since the twentieth century hadn't arrived yet, this was indeed a strange thing.

"Oh dear…" mumbled Christine.

"Erik!" called out the Persian, "That's enough! Get off my bicycle!"

"NEVAR!!1!" yelled the musical genius. He continued the song, "_You Say Black, I Say White. You Say Bark, I Say Bite. You Say Shark, I Say Hey Man, Jaws Was Never My Scene And I Don't Like Star Wars! You Say Rolls, I Say Royce. You Say God, Give Me A Choice! You Say Lord, I Say Christ, I Don't Believe In Peter Pan, Frankenstein Or Superman! All I Wanna Do Is_…" he continued singing the song, much to the dismay of the other characters. Many of the references confused them, and Erik seemed to notice nothing, he circled round the stage on the bike.

Finally, Santa Claus made an appearance. He arrived through another conveniently placed plot hole window. He was carrying a bundle of joy, no, wait, I'll rephrase that… He was carrying a sack—no, no… That sounds weird too. He was carrying a bag, a large bag that appeared to contain lumpy objects. That sounds pretty unpleasant too; anyway, they were obviously presents, or something similar.

He smiled a jolly old smile, and said, "HO HO HO!"

"Where?" asked Raoul. Looks were cast at him.

"Why, I must say! You all look like you could use some Christmas cheer!" said Santa, all cheerful and whatnot. "Except that fellow!" Santa indicated Erik, who was still singing _Bicycle Race_ at the top of his lungs whilst riding the Persian's bike.

Everyone was silent.

"… I have presents for you all!"

Everyone was still silent.

"HO HO HO!" Santa started throwing presents at everyone. _I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas_ began to play in the background.

Everyone opened their presents, and were pleased, very pleased. Madame Giry received a new diamond studded cane, Christine got a fancy pair of shoes, Raoul also got a pair of fancy shoes, and the Persian received a football. They were all so very happy.

"_I Don't Wanna Be A Candidate, For Vietnam Or Watergate. Cos All I Want To Do Is… Bicycle! Bicycle! Bicycle_…"

It was all like the end of a really bad Christmas special, or acid trip. It's hard to say at this point.

And then they all sat down to a nice feast.

* * *

So yeah. And you thought the other chapters were messed up.

Disclaimer: 'Bicycle Race' is not mine. It is a Queen song. So there you go.

Anyway! Merry whateveryoucelebrate!

And I apologize for all incredibly lame jokes. :D

Chyeah!


	8. Raoul Has a Fit

Raoul Has a Fit

It had been about three months of feasting before Erik, Christine, Madame Giry, Raoul and the Persian realized that Santa had left and the New Year had begun. They were all quite embarrassed. But, after cleaning up the two-month old food and going for a walk, they were ready to continue on with the author's story. Mostly because the author can make them do so.

The five of them were all sitting on the stage now, not entirely sure what they should do, or not do, with themselves. It was in this limbo of nothing-to-do that Meg and Philippe entered from stage left.

"Hello everyone!" Meg cried out loudly in excitement. "Guess what?"

"What?" Christine responded.

"Philippe and I are now married!"

"WHAT?" came the dismayed chorus of the group sitting on the stage.

"We're married!" Philippe confirmed.

"When did this happen?" Erik asked, quite calmly, all things considered.

"First of February." Answered Meg cheerfully.

"Why weren't we invited?" Christine asked with a pout.

Meg chuckled, "Well, we tried to, but all of you were too busy with your Christmas feast to listen."

"I don't remember seeing you Meg…" Giry said with a frown.

"That's because you were all in a food coma when we tried to invite you," Philippe explained.

Everyone chatted amongst themselves, giving congratulations and other such verbal nonsense to one another. The only one who didn't participate was Raoul. He sat with a disgruntled look on his face, harrumphing and grunting at appropriate intervals.

After several minutes of being grumpy, he finally decided to voice a question, "But _why_?"

Everyone looked in his direction, completely silent. After a moment of looking at Raoul, they turned to look at the happy couple.

"We're in _love_!" the two cried out in unison.

Erik turned around to look at Raoul once more, "They're in _love_."

"In love!" Christine added brightly.

"Love," Giry nodded.

"Love," the Persian shrugged.

Raoul looked mortified, "Whhyyyyyeeee?" he whined.

Erik got an incredibly devious smile on his face; he took a step towards Christine and held out his hand. Christine took it with a smile.

Raoul felt a song coming on.

"Loooovvve…" the two sang in unison.

"Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love!" Meg sang almost too sweetly.

Philippe was about to add his own vocals to the 'song' that had begun, but before he could do anything more than open his mouth, Raoul managed to butt in:

"NO. Stop. Be quiet. Shut up."

He took two deep breaths and continued with, "Meg, you married my _undead_ brother. Do you not see the problem with that? And Philippe, I thought you loved Sorelli?" Raoul paused for several moments, glaring at everyone and breathing heavily, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?" He proceeded to storm out of the room, not especially eager for any kind of answer.

Erik snorted at this, "'You people'? Who does he think he is anyway?"

"A vicount? Vicompt…or whatever." Said the Persian with an apathetic shrug.

Erik huffed, "No matter…he is still a pansy fop."

"Stop that!" Christine snapped at the phantom, "You don't need to be so mean!" with a pout and a lifting of skirts, she made haste for the exit Raoul had taken.

After watching Christine leave, Erik looked to the Persian, "Should I even bother going after her this time?"

"She'll probably come back crying again at some point. She's a pretty fickle woman"

Erik got a stupid grin on his face, "Aren't they all?"

"HARHARHARHARHARhehehehHAR."

Madame Giry looked at the two quite soberly, "It really wasn't that funny."

"Hey, when you live alone underneath an opera house for your whole life, humour isn't exactly your forte." Erik responded in his own defense.

"And what's your excuse?" Giry asked of the Persian.

"I'm Persian."

* * *

Alright, there are some things to address:

1. Sorry I haven't updated this story in 3 months...I haven't been writing it because I have to do a lot of writing for English, and then I also have original pieces that I work on as well. Basically: I'm busy, and I have lots of other writing to do.

2. Thanks to all who enjoy this enough to want more. I'm glad I have people who want this story alive, however few that might be.

3. Sorry this chapter isn't very long.

Anyway, hopefully I can get a chapter up at least once or twice during a month. If you _really_ want to see more, just nag at me to get another chapter up. Chances are, if you bother me enough via messages, I will try and get something written.

Thanks to all who leave reviews! And to all who simply read this tripe!


	9. The Super Hero Chapter

The Super Hero Chapter

When Raoul had run off, he had ran down some unlabeled corridor that led into a rather frilly looking room. And although the frills and pink and purple that filled the room were enough to make a blind man wince, Raoul was simply too angry to care. He slammed the door behind him, and started destroying whatever he got his hands on.

Christine was running around like a lost child full of sugar, looking for her beloved Raoul. This proved to be a foolish act because the corset she was wearing made breathing difficult. Having run around so eagerly, she had begun breathing faster, which caused her to become quite dizzy; and this hyperventilation eventually made her collapse to the floor, hitting a vase and an ill-placed ladder in the process.

All the meanwhile, at the glorious opera stage, Erik was singing David Bowie's "Life On Mars" for the newly (ish) wedded couple. Madame Giry was scowling at her diamond-studded cane because there was a diamond missing, and the Persian was trying to play the piano he had found in the orchestra pit.

JUST THEN!

A bright light portraying the titan (or whatever) Apollo's silhouette appeared on the ceiling!

The Persian then said: "You know what this means Erik!" He then kicked over the piano in front of him with super-human strength and jumped on stage.

Erik stopped singing and replied: "Yes, yes I do." With an elegant twirl and a swish of his cape Erik had become: Super Phantom Erik.

Needless to say, it was awesome.

Without any more words, everyone followed Super Phantom Erik out into the corridors. He led them through what seemed to be a maze, until quite eventually, they found themselves going down some unlabeled corridor. At the end of the hallway, SPE stopped in front of a grand wooden door.

"This is where the call came from…" SPE said solemnly.

The Persian nodded in confirmation; and everyone else stood by, watching expectantly.

SPE opened the door to see a cloud of feathers flying in the air, as well as purple and pink pieces of frilly fabric. The group in the corridor watched the mess for several minutes. And then, as the cloud began to clear, they could see a figure...the figure of Raoul De Chagny.

"I never thought the fop could look so demonic."

"I AM NO FOP!" Raoul growled loudly.

SPE rolled his eyes and replied with, "Says the man who ties his hair with a bow."

"WELL WHAT EXACTLY SHOULD I TIE IT WITH? A RUDDY OLD PIECE OF STRING?"

SPE tutted at Raoul ever so softly, "My good sir, you shouldn't _need_ to tie your hair. If you insist on tying it all the time, why, just cut it off to save yourself all the trouble!"

Raoul glared at SPE most explicitly, covered in feathers, hair disheveled, and with a look in his entire demeanor that said: "I am going to kill you."

Without any further warning, Raoul pounced at SPE.

"You know, that last sentence could be taken into the wrong context," said Madame Giry to the author.

The author decided to reply in the lovely tones of Morgan Freeman, "Duly noted."

None of the characters expected the author to have such a deep voice; they had originally thought the author had the tones of an old British man.

Anyway, back to Raoul pouncing on SPE.

Heh.

Raoul managed to knock down SPE and get his hands around the singer's neck. But before the Viscount had a chance to cause asphyxiation within the poor, no longer super Erik, Christine ran into the scene.

"DON'T DO IT, DON'T DO IT, DON'T DO IT!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Everyone stopped whatever they had been doing, for fear of whatever Christine's psychotic reaction might be.

Somebody coughed.

A wild smile climbed onto Christine's face, "I've had an epiphany!"

* * *

HAHA! Looks like I updated again!

I do hope you realize this means I didn't do other things I am supposed to be doing.

More talking about irrelevant stuff.

And: David Bowie song is belong to him and probably others.

Grammar not good on a purpose.

:D Thanks for reading my malchicks and devotchkas!


	10. Gore! Among Other Things

Gore! Among Other Things...

"It looks like you've had an accident!" Meg Giry cried out, having seen the rather prominent gash that was currently situated on right half of Christine's head.

"No no!" Christine insisted, shaking her head, causing blood to ooze down her face.

"Gross," Raoul commented, still situated atop Erik, with his hands still firmly placed around the singer's neck. Erik nodded his agreement. He then rid himself of the fop with the use of a forceful shove.

"I've honestly, truly, had the most brilliant of revelations!" Christine brayed happily. "Truly!" She added uselessly.

"What exactly _is_ this revelation?" Madame Giry asked carefully.

"OH OH OH!" Christine cheered crazily jumping up and down, "Raoul and I _must_ get married!"

"Gee, what a glorious announcement that was." Came flat sarcasm from Erik.

"So you actually _do_ want to marry me?" Raoul asked blatantly.

Christine shook her head up and down furiously, causing even more blood to ooze. Looks of disgust were made.

Erik scowled, "I'm nearly strangled to death, and you decide to announce something this asinine?" he then went scoff scoff scoff.

"I hope you realize just how ironic that statement is." Said the Persian.

"How so?"

"Well, considering that the question came from a man who spends his time choking people to death—"

"Okay okay," the phantom interjected bluntly, "I see your point."

"But I wasn't finished—"

"You are now." Erik finished coldly.

The Persian huffed irritably, not especially happy about being forced to say less…even though he wasn't supposed to be especially talkative anyway.

"We should probably get Mme. Daae bandaged, or stitched up," Madame Giry commented, whilst watching Christine sway in such a way that she could be used to demonstrate resonance.

The lot of them decided to herd Christine somewhere to be fixed up and put to rest. For some inexplicable reason they chose to go to Erik's little lair/home/whatever under the opera house.

After many trials in the labyrinth that was the cellars; several dragons, a bewildered hobo, ten merciless hot dog stand vendors…and but one encounter with Jennifer Connelly and a goblin prince…. The group had found the phantom's cozy little abode.

Once they had dealt with Christine and stuck Raoul in charge of carrying her off to bed, the lot of them all crashed in a nicely furnished room.

"This is a lovely living area you have M. Erik," said Meg admiring the couch she was situated on.

"Thank you," Erik said, despite the fact that he had no idea why he even had such a finely furnished living room in his home, seeing as he doesn't get much company.

"So is it always that troublesome to navigate through the cellars?" Philippe asked Erik.

Erik nodded, "Yes, but quite luckily we didn't get caught in one of the goblin prince's songs," he took a moment to discard of a stray string sitting on his pant leg, "the songs always make the trip longer."

"Ah," Philippe said, to let the phantom know that he understood what he meant.

There was an uncomfortable silence for time.

"…So, what now?" Meg asked nobody in particular.

It was at this point the author decided another event had to occur, mostly because writing such 'witty' dialogue was tiresome. The event went as follows:

The silence took the room once more, however, it did not last terribly long. Most abruptly, a deranged looking teenager entered the room.

"LIKE O-M-G!" She shouted obnoxiously, "IT'S ERIK!"

"Oh lord…" the poor phantom muttered to himself, cradling his head in his hands.

Almost immediately, the most-definitely-not-appropriately-aged girl made an attempt to physically violate the musician. Fortunately, Giry used her diamond-studded cane to beat the girl into submission.

"But I want to have PHUN with my PHANTOM!" The girl screeched in the most annoying manner, "I am his biggest PHAN!" Giry then proceeded to deal out more diamond-studded pain.

"_How_ does everyone know where my home is?" Erik asked in exasperation.

* * *

Yet another chapter...my my...what has gotten into me? (_Labyrinth_ references and physics analogies, apparently).

Anyway, matters not, I have a challenge for my dear readers:

Can you identify the allusion to _A Clockwork Orange_? Just pick out the sentence where I made use of a similar style...and then next chapter, you can find out if you were correct!

Yeah, not only am I lame, but I'm lame whilst being an English geek simultaneously. Fancy that.

Fun Fact: The author actually decided to use the word 'betwixt' instead of 'between' in an informal, personal essay for her English class.

Until the next installment! Good Night, and Good Luck!


	11. Reoil and Whisky Glass

Reoil and Whisky Glass

"I think there's a map in the men's bathroom of the opera house." Said the Persian.

The phantom's face went through several expressions consisting of: confusion, bewilderment and disgust. Nobody really noticed this, due to the mask that was attached to his face. And as such, all stared at the phantom, wondering why he hadn't made some sort of response.

The Persian then said, "Erik, we can't tell what you feel through your expressions, remember?"

"Oh, right, the mask."

"Yes, the mask."

"Well, if you all must know…" it was then that Erik made a rather risky move—he removed his mask.

Meg Giry let out a small squeak of disgust, the beaten phan girl was no longer a phan girl, and everyone else didn't really give two shits. After the initial shock—and apathy—Erik made the three distinct expressions everyone had missed out on the first time around.

"That makes more sense," said Philippe, who was now satisfied in knowing that Erik had been confused, bewildered and disgusted at the prospect of having a map to his home in a men's bathroom.

There were nods of agreement all around.

…

Elsewhere—elsewhere being in the room Christine was currently passed out in—Raoul was getting upset. He was upset for a couple of reasons. The first reason was the fact that most people who used him in fan fiction couldn't be bothered to spell his name correctly; and the second reason was that he had been stuck with the tiresome work of carrying Christine to the room farthest from the entrance.

Out of the blue, a cloud of poorly formed, angsty, Raoul bashing tripe, struck the author:

(Brace yourself).

Roul was standing oer Christine as she lay helpless, and completely defenseless on the gorgeous handcrafted bed that Erik had made for her. He looked at her with his unexplained bottle of whisky in hand, being a hopeless, unabashed drunk. (Who didn't really bother with drinking whisky properly because drunks don't drink things out of a glass—nor do they savor the drink; they have to drink straight out of a bottle—obviously chugging it—or else they aren't a true alcoholic). He was muttering slurred curses and stuff as well, because all drunks are angry and violent—oh yeah, raol also had murderous intent. He was very angry with Christine, because apparently roul didn't blame the phantom for kidnapping and brainwashing her—he blamed Christine for it—against all of his generally established character development in the original writing of _Phantom of the Opera_.

ANYWAY. Raool was leering (sp??) over Christine as she lay all defenseless and innocent and pretty and Emmy Rossum-like on teh bed. He took a swig from his bottle of whisky…after several minutes of chugging the drink; reoil dropped the empty bottle on the ground (because we don't need to establish the fact that raol actually finished off the bottle). It smashed into a million billion pieces of alcohol glass. Reol glared at Christine with super-hate, and made ready to smash her face in with his fist, because for some reason not fully developed, he thought she was some hussy ho-bag biotch who totally cheated on him…or something.

(The author had to stop, because making errors on purpose was a rather draining task).

Raoul blinked, wondering what the hell was going on. He shook his head, and decided that he wanted to leave Christine to sleep, so he could go and get something to eat. As he made to leave, he stepped on the glass that was on the floor. There was an appropriate crunching sound beneath his shoes.

"Where the hell did this come from?" Raoul scowled. He had to clean it up before he left, because he didn't need Christine breaking her feet on it if she decided to wake up and wander. With a sigh of defeat, he found a broom to sweep it into a far corner. He couldn't help the fact that he loved the silly girl enough to protect her from mystery glass. He then went off to eat.

…

"…And that's how I managed to carve out my own home down here." Said Erik, who had been explaining the finer mechanics of creating an underground lair/home/kingdom-where-all-must-pay homage-to-music to the rest of the group in the living room.

"That's simply amazing!" Philippe insisted, having been completely enthralled in the phantom's explanation.

"Indeed," agreed Meg.

"So what shall we do now?" Erik asked rather cheerily.

"We should have a party!" came a loud voice from the living room entrance.

* * *

Yay! An update you guys!

Clockwork reference from the last chapter: "he then went scoff scoff scoff."

The repetition. It was all in the repetition.

Anyway, hope this chapter wasn't too painful for you, things got a bit out of hand when I began 'criticizing' bad fan fiction. (Criticizing is a fancy way of saying: blatantly made fun of).

I think I might do that more often though, it was fun.

It's fun to spell 'Raoul' incorrectly. Try it out sometime, you'll see. Well, uh, a th-th-th-that's all folks!


	12. The Goat

The Goat

or

Short Chapter is Short

"Good lord!" Erik cried out, covering his ears as swiftly as he could manage, "What goat is screaming its final death cry in my ears!?"

"AY!" the goat screeched. "I am no goat! You ghastly phantom!"

It was Carlotta, for those of you who aren't following.

"How did you find your way down here?" Meg asked Carlotta calmly.

"There was a map in the men's bathroom."

Philippe frowned, "What were you doing in th-"

"That is unimportant!" she yelled out.

Erik was now writhing on the floor, "Oohhh… my poor defenseless ears. I shall never hear Christine's beautiful voice again if that goat continues to render me deaf…" he continued to mumble and groan.

Carlotta scowled at Erik, "Quiet you tasteless fool."

Erik continued complaining, even louder.

"_ANY_WAY…I have graced you all with my presence because I wish to invite you to a small gala being held at _Le Fumoir_ tonight!"

Le Fumoir probably didn't exist in the early 1800's, but I don't really care. I took a minute out of my life to look up a French bar—in Paris no less—and I expect you all to appreciate it! Well, not really. I don't care at all. For those of you interested, Le Fumoir means 'The Smoking-room'. And it actually sounds like it would be a nice place to go while visiting Paris. Uh, anyway, everyone in the pseudo-living-room looked at one another. With a well-choreographed shrug, they decided that it would be something to do, and it was probably better to avoid angering or irritating Carlotta. And thus, each of them told Carlotta they would be happy to attend the 'gala.' Well, all except for the phantom, who was in the fetal position, sulking.

"Ahhhnnd you, Monsieur _phantom_, are NOT invited."

"Thank heaven above."

Carlotta practically snarled. With a 'humph' she exited the room. Wiggling her butt and holding an air that said: "I am a pompous snot-bag."

"Well," started Madame Giry, "That was a rather unexpected development."

"A rather _unwanted_ one," added Erik, who was lying on the floor and staring up at the ceiling with both arms crossed.

"Oh stop pouting would you?" The Persian said, "You're just upset that you weren't invited."  
"Am not."  
"Are too."  
"_Am not_."

And so, many eyes rolled.

* * *

OKAY. Hi guys, it's been awhile. I've been really, really busy. I've had work, a summer school course, and moving stuff going on...so I haven't really had time to write this story. (If you can call it a story.) :D

With that said, I decided to get something up for now, though it is incredibly short. (And I apologize for that.)

I'll have more free time in August, so I'll try to get a real chapter up then. For now, enjoy the 379 words I have provided for yon reading pleasure. :)


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